


Eight

by talkingsoup



Series: The Scientist [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Murder, Gen, Harm to Children, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-08-25 15:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16663546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingsoup/pseuds/talkingsoup
Summary: Eight kids climbed a mountain. What happens next will not warm your heart.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> There's going to be a lot of themes of **suicide** and **child abuse** in this so please mind the tags and take care of yourself.
> 
> You don't have to have read The Scientist to read this.

The first one tripped. Later they told themselves that they jumped, because that had been their intent. And intent, they find, counts for a lot. Not everything, but a lot.

They’d been looking for shelter for the night. The back of the cave had a dark pit, and when they went to inspect it--there might be wolverines or monsters or whatever else the adults claim live on the mountain--their foot caught on a vine. The lurch in their stomach, the fall.

They remember their mind going blank as they fell. It wasn’t despair. It was something like bliss. Silent acceptance. They hadn’t had much of a plan beyond “run” and “disappear.” This was a kind of disappearing. This is good, they remember thinking. This is for the best.

They remember  _ hearing  _ something snap when they landed, hearing it a moment before the shooting, searing pain. It was so startling that they couldn’t help but cry out. Later they think about how stupid that is. They’re supposed to be stronger than that. They don’t cry when they’re hurt. One of the first things they remember learning was how to be quiet when they were in pain.

It meant they weren’t dead. They were alive, lying in the leaves and dirt, hurting everywhere, and instead of the pain fading or becoming easier to deal with, it was only getting worse. Their arm was certainly broken.

(they remembered the last time they broke their arm, and how they’d told everyone that they had jumped down a flight of stairs, and how everyone had believed them)

Other things felt broken as well. There was a sticky, wet spot forming in their hair. It had occurred to them that they were just going to lie here, broken and in agony, and that it could be days until they finally died. The last part of their rational mind tried to tell them that that was just fine, because they probably deserved it that way.

The rest of their mind didn’t want to listen. They remembered reading somewhere about suicides always having second thoughts. How that stupid survival instinct kicks in at the last second.

Later they would learn to ignore it. But not now.

They called for help.

It wasn’t the first time. But this was the first time that someone answered.

  
  
  


They know what they are. They are a hellion. A parasite. A worthless brat. They are impossible. They are emotionally unstable. Unpredictable. They are violent. They are creepy and strange and unlovable. They are a mistake. A freak. A devil child. A demon.

They are other words that they had to look up on the internet. They are other words that other kids in school would gasp to hear, words that when teachers overheard them, would land them in the corner with their nose pressed to the wall.

The Dreemurrs don’t use any of those words. They just call them by name. Occasionally, “human,” in the same tone that they call various monsters what they are--Loox, dog, Vulkin, skeleton.

Occasionally, “my child.”

They wait for the catch, because there’s always a catch with adults, and monsters can’t be that much different. Mrs. Dreemurr finds their stash of food, hidden away under the bed, one day while she’s vacuuming. They stand quietly with their hands at their sides and their gaze lowered when she confronts them. This is when the Dreemurrs throw them out.

Mrs. Dreemurr very gently touches their shoulder. They’re a hugging family, but they’re cautious with their pet human. They have been since the first time. They hadn’t even gotten mad at how rigid their human had gone.

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” Mrs. Dreemurr says, her voice soft. “As long as you are under my roof, I will not let you go hungry.”

She smiles, just as softly. She tells them how she’s always happy to cook extra. She tells them how they’re always welcome to anything in the fridge. She tells them they don’t even need to ask.

They stop hiding food. But they never touch the fridge without permission. It’s a compromise.

They keep waiting for the catch. Mr. Dreemurr finds the trampled spot in the garden. It was an accident. They didn’t mean to. They’d been tossing a ball back and forth with Asriel, and they hadn’t caught it in time. It had bounced twice, crushing some flowers. Asriel said not to worry about it, since the garden is huge, and Dad probably won’t even notice.

He notices, because adults always notice. They don’t try to defend themselves. They don’t give excuses. They stand quietly with their hands and their sides and their gaze lowered. It doesn’t matter if they didn’t mean to. It has never mattered. It will be worse if they try to defend themselves, and even worse than that if they try to run.

“I was able to save one of them. See?” Mr. Dreemurr says, and he shows them a bedraggled-looking flower in a terracotta pot. “It just needed some hands-on care, then it can go back into the ground.”

He smiles warmly at them.

“Sadly, I couldn’t save the other one. But these things happen. Next time, will you tell me sooner? That way I might have time to save all of them.”

He must see how tense they are, because he makes no move to touch them.

“Do not worry. I am not angry. Why don’t I show you what I am doing to help this plant regrow? You might learn a thing or two!”

They learn. The next time it happens, they are able to save the plants themselves. Then they tell Mr. Dreemurr. It is a compromise.

They keep waiting. They are playing with Asriel one day when they push him a little too hard. He loses his balance and falls. He bangs his elbow against the stone floor, and lets out a little yelp of pain, and it’s the worst sound they have ever heard.

They back away and cover their mouth to hide their sudden grin.

(why? why do they smile and laugh when things go wrong? they have never understood it. they know they aren’t happy but they smile and they laugh anyway, like a hellion a devil child a demon would)

“Haha, ow,” Asriel says, wincing and rubbing his elbow.

(there’s dust. only a tiny bit, but they know what it means)

They’re already apologizing. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it at least makes things less terrible.

“It’s okay!” He springs back to his feet. “It’s like a battle wound! Haha, ewwww, look at it!”

He shows them the scrape, wiping off the tiny smudge of gray in his white fur.

“Mom knows healing magic,” he says. “Let’s go find her. Don’t worry, okay? It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

They’ve had skinned elbows before, so they know he’s lying. But he’s not mad. He’s smiling, bigger and brighter than anything in the world.

“You know, none of the other kids are brave enough to push me even a little. They won’t even play tag with me. But you’re cool! You don’t treat me different just cause I’m…some prince. I really like having you around.”

They don’t stop roughhousing with him. But they make sure to never hurt him enough to draw dust ever again. It’s a compromise.

It takes awhile. Mrs. Dreemurr becomes Mrs. Mom. Mr. Dreemurr becomes Mr. Dad Guy. Asriel refers to them as a sibling. They try calling him “bro.” He laughs and tells them how cool they are.

It starts to feel right.

Eventually they realize that they love the Dreemurrs.

What a terrible thing that is. What a terrible burden, for such good people to be loved by something like them. Nothing good can come of a demon loving a family of angels

It is even worse when they realize that the Dreemurrs love them back.

There is only one possible way that they can make it up to them.

  
  
  


It hurts worse than anything they have ever experienced. And it takes a long time. It takes hours. If they are honest, they did not think it would be like this. They thought they would just get sick, like Asgore did.

Hindsight and all that.

They do not cry, though they want to. Asriel cries. There are more tears with every filthy red cough, like he’s trying to keep up. They’ve teased him about it before. They almost wish they could apologize for that now. But there will be time for apologies later.

There were easier ways, they know. Faster ways. They tell themselves that they don’t deserve that sort of kindness, like they don’t deserve the kindness the Dreemurrs have given them. They don’t deserve it, but they intend to repay it. Debts should be repaid.

Their will shakes when the Dreemurrs begin to realize that this is an end. Toriel begs them to wake up. Asgore begs them to stay determined. Their will shakes, but it’s much too late now.

Asriel squeezes their hand.

“Six, right?”

They want to tell him how brave he is.

“We just have to get six…”

They think of the flowers in their village. The golden ones in the village green. This time of year, they’ll be in bloom.

  
  
  


They are powerful. Immensely, impossibly powerful. And they are with him. They  _ are  _ him, and he is them. It’s more perfect than they ever could have imagined. It makes the hours of pain worth it. More than worth it.

He’s overwhelmed.

_ It’s so beautiful. It’s all just so beautiful. _

They’re going to show him this entire world. All its wonders. He’s the first monster to see the sun in over a thousand years. His joy, his awe, it’s everything to them. They can’t wait to show him the rest of it. The good parts of it, after the bad parts have been wiped clean.

So first things first.

  
  
  


They try everything they know. Every trick. Every insult, every goad. They scream. They cry. They beg. They apologize. They demand why.

Why.

_ Why. _

They were so  _ close. _

_ I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry. _

His voice is so small and so far away.

_ They were just scared. _

As if he wasn’t scared. As if he isn’t still scared. As if they themselves aren’t terrified.

They are terrified and they are in agony and they are

 

_ Angry. _

 

He brought them flowers. He watched them suffer for hours. He took their soul. He promised. He  _ promised. _

He did all that and he couldn’t kill a few strangers. Couldn’t bring himself to even harm them. Not even to defend himself.

They scream and he’s the only one who hears them. In this world, it’s kill or be killed. And he’s gotten them killed. He’s doomed them all.

Or maybe they did.

They are in the garden again. They see their parents horrified faces for the last time, a second time.

They think about Asgore pointing to a plant with little black spots on the leaves and grimly muttering, “Parasites. Just one can kill an entire plant.”

An entire family. An entire species.

One parasite. One demon.

_ I’m sorry. _

_ I’m sorry too. _

They stop screaming.

Silent acceptance.

  
  
  


And then it’s quiet.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains child death and references to child abuse.

The second one fell. She was playing “Hide.” Not hide and seek. Her sister had explained the game a long time ago. You hide. You stay quiet. Hopefully, no seeking happens. Hide until the shouting stops, or until big sister comes to tell you it’s safe. Sometimes, she and her sister would play it together. The game was more fun that way, because it was less scary when her sister was holding onto her.

She’s gotten very good at the game. Her sister says so all the time. She’s good at hiding. She’s good at staying quiet and at waiting for a long time. She’s even gotten good at knowing when it’s time to start playing. She knew it would be a long game this time, and she knew she would need a better hiding place than usual.

The cave was perfect. She just didn’t see the hole in the back.

It’s a long fall, and it hurts a lot, but she bounced off some dirt and vines on the way down. So when she lands, she’s not too hurt. She lost one of her ribbons. She’s bruised and scraped, and her chin wobbles, but she stays quiet. She’s still playing the game. It’s a good hiding spot, she thinks. She’s probably a thousand miles deep in the ground. She must be halfway to China. No one will look for her here.

You’re supposed to stay in your hiding spot until the noises stop. But she can’t hear anything from down here. The scrapes hurt. She wants to go find some band-aids. And she’s getting hungry. But Hide is a dire game. You don’t leave your hiding place, not for anything.

Not until someone finds you.

“Oh dear!” says a voice.

A monster finds her. The biggest monster in the world. She tries to hide behind some vines, but the monster has already seen her. There’s nowhere to run.

“Did you fall down?” the monster says, crouching near the flowers. Her voice reminds her of the teachers at kindergarten.

The monster doesn’t come any closer. She stays crouched near the flowers, smiling gently, speaking quietly. She introduces herself. She says this is “The Ruins.” She says she means no harm. She says she can help.

You’re not supposed to talk to strangers. But her knees are skinned. She’s starting to get hungry. She feels like she’s been down here for days already. The monster lady seems nice. 

She comes out. She’s careful. She’s ready to dart away, or bite, or kick the lady in the shins if she needs to, like her sister taught her. The monster lady holds out her hand. She very carefully reaches out and takes it.

Her hand is soft, like a cat’s paw. It’s nice. She smiles just a little. The monster lady doesn’t try to hurt her, doesn’t even hold on that tightly.

“I can take you somewhere safe,” the lady says after a moment. “If that is alright with you.”

You’re not supposed to go with strangers any more than you’re supposed to talk to them. She looks back up at the hole where she fell through. It’s so far away and so dark that she can’t even see it. How is she ever going to climb back out? Her sister is very good at finding her, but what if she can’t this time?

The lady sees her looking. She explains that there’s another way out of this place, but that it’s far away from here. It could be dangerous. It would be good to rest up and eat something before she goes.

Her stomach growls. She’s hungrier than she thought. She looks at the lady and nods.

“But if you’re a bad guy I’ll start screaming,” she warns.

The lady smiles gently. “It’s a deal.”

The lady stands up and helps her to her feet. She starts to walk slowly back into the darkness, holding her hand. There’s an orange glow as the lady makes fire in her other hand to light the way. The lady must be magical.

She thinks of the Good Witch in that one movie.

 

There is a house. It is small and cozy, and very quiet. There are more rooms than there are at home. The lady points at one and says that she can stay there for the night. There’s even a bed, and pictures on the walls. Macaroni art, like in kindergarten. There is a dead tree out front too, which she thinks is sad. It would be a good tree for climbing. Her sister would like it. She misses her. It feels like years already.

The lady doesn’t have band-aids, which is strange. But she has magic. She doesn’t use a magic wand. She just holds her hand and then there is soft green light. It feels cool, almost minty, like toothpaste. The scrapes disappear. The bruises stop throbbing. Even one of the older bruises, from when she lost a game of Hide a week ago, fades away. She smiles at the lady. She wants to know magic too, so she can fix hurts like this. It would be a good way to pay her sister back. Her sister has done so much for her and she gets hurt all the time.

She’ll ask later, once she’s sure she can trust this lady.

The lady seems happy.

“It has been so long since there were children in the house.” She says it in that way that adults do sometimes, when they’re talking about two things at once. “It has been so long since I had company at all!”

The lady fusses about with cleaning and with dinner. She uses magic for those things as well. It’s wonderful to watch, and not at all scary. The house begins to smell the way other houses do, like food and warmth. If her sister were here, it would be perfect.

Dinner is some kind of pie. She stares at it. The lady is watching her. Then suddenly she blinks, and takes a bite of her own pie. It’s safe. It’s not poisoned or drugged.

So she takes a bite. It’s the best thing she’s ever eaten. It warms her insides and makes the last of the scrapes completely vanish. Everything down here is so magical. It’s like a dream or like one of the stories her sister reads to her.

“You know,” the lady says as she’s clearing plates. “You could stay here, if you want. I would be very happy to have you. The way out will be dangerous. It would be safer if you were to stay here with me.”

It’s a nice idea. The lady is good. She’s kind and generous, and the food was very good. She’s like one of the moms on the television. She hasn’t been mean. There are many places to play Hide here, but it hasn’t been necessary. The lady isn’t loud. She doesn’t hit, or at least, she hasn’t yet.

But her sister isn’t here.

“Why don’t you spend the night and think about it? It will be your decision. If you still wish to leave tomorrow, I will show you the path.”

It is strange to think that she could decide something so important. Her sister is the only one who’s old enough and smart enough to decide things like that.

She will think about it. But she’s pretty sure she has already decided.

 

The lady is sad, but she nods. She says she understands what it’s like to miss a loved one. She gives her a piece of pie wrapped in a bit of cloth and pats her on the head.

There is a dark tunnel in the basement. The lady lights the way with a magic flame, and she follows close behind. At the end of the tunnel is a heavy door.

The lady looks worried.

“I cannot leave the Ruins, so you must listen carefully. The path will take you all the way to the other side of the Underground. If you get hurt, the pie will help you. Be careful. Stay away from other monsters. Stay away from the King. If you see anyone, you must run and hide. Do you understand?”

She nods. She knows the game well. Hide, and wait. Wait until someone finds you, or until the danger is passed.

The lady gives her a quick hug. It’s warm and soft.

“Stay Determined,” the lady whispers, like a prayer. “If anything happens, you can come back to me.”

Then she opens the door. It’s dark on the other side, and the air feels cold. She is careful, like the lady said to be, like she’s always known to be. She puts her hand through to make sure it’s safe. Then she steps through.

It is dark for awhile. She hears the door close behind her.

On the other side is snow.

It is summer at home. But out here, it looks like Christmas. It’s exciting. She thought she would have to wait years and years to see the snow again. Snow is her favorite. Snowball fights, snowmen, strings of colorful lights, evergreen trees. It’s quiet, which makes it easier to hide.

She crouches down to scoop some snow into a snowball. The cold prickles against her hands. She giggles to herself and starts walking. She throws the snowball into a bush as she passes. If only her sister were here--then they could have a snowball fight. How many kids can say they’ve had a snowball fight in the middle of summer?

Her hands and feet start to get cold. She tucks her hands under her dress. She curls her toes in her shoes. She wonders if she’ll have to build a fire. Her sister taught her how to use a lighter and how to light a match. But she doesn’t have either of those things. If she had magic like the lady does, she could make a torch and carry it with her. She forgot to ask the lady to teach her before she left.

Soon she’s shivering. She hugs herself and rubs her hands. Snow is more fun when you have a warm coat and boots. She tries to walk faster. She thought there would be houses out here, but there aren’t any. When she finds a house, maybe she can sneak inside and warm up. Maybe they’ll have blankets or coats she can borrow. Her sister always says that borrowing is okay if it’s something you really need.

There are still no houses, but there is a tiny structure by the side of the road. There might be something there she can use. But as she approaches, a monster stands up from behind it.

“Who goes there?”

She doesn’t make a sound. She just turns and runs into the trees.

She can hear shouts and footsteps behind her. She keeps running, deeper and deeper into the forest, running at angles like her sister taught her. She looks back over her shoulder and trips over a tree root. One of her shoes goes flying off. She still doesn’t make a sound, pawing around in the snow to try and find it. But the monsters are coming. There’s no time. She gets back to her feet and keeps running.

Up ahead, down a short embankment, is a big tree with gnarled roots. She darts behind it and crawls in between the roots, covering her mouth with both hands. She stays quiet and hidden, listening for the sounds of the monsters. There’s footsteps. There’s barks. There’s growls. There’s the snap of twigs and the crunch of snow.

She’s good at this game. She stays where she is, silent, until her toes and fingers and ears are aching with cold. She stays until she can’t feel any of them anymore. Then, finally, the sounds start to go away. The monsters start to leave.

She won again. But it’s not safe to come out until you’re certain. Until the noises stop, or until someone finds you.

She waits.

She waits until she sure.

She’s tired. Her limbs feel slow. Her bare sock feels like it has frozen. Slowly, staying completely quiet, she gets to her feet. She has to go back and find the road. Or maybe she should go back and find the lady. Ask the lady for a coat and boots, and try again tomorrow.

She knows to follow tracks in the snow. But there are so many of them now, from when the monsters were looking for her. She follows the ones she thinks might be hers. It feels like it’s getting even colder. The woods are thick, and she can’t see the road, or hear anything anymore.

She stumbles through the snow. Then stops. She must have gotten turned around. Or did she run farther than she thought she did? She tries another direction. Nothing. More snow and trees.

She is very tired. At least she is not shivering anymore.

She thinks she might be lost, but it’s hard to think at all. When you’re lost, you’re supposed to stay in one place and wait. If you wander too much, you just get more lost. Being lost is kind of like playing HIde. Her sister explained it one time. She’s been lost before. But last time, there were buildings and streets and signs. Out here, there’s only trees and monsters.

She wonders where her other shoe went.

She sits down near a tree and huddles into herself. She’s lost, but it will be okay. Someone will find her. Her sister will find her. She always does.

She just needs to wait.

It’s not so cold anymore.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bravery.

The third one climbed down. She found a ribbon in the cave--her sister’s ribbon. At the back of the cave was a deep, dark hole.

She’s spent months searching. This was the only place she hadn’t looked. This had to be it.

There were thick vines growing down into the hole. They were easy enough to climb down. She dropped a rock to see how deep it was before. Now, hanging from the end of the vine, she can see the bottom. A bit of a drop, but not bad. It’ll just hurt her knees.

So she drops. She lands in a crouch. She hopes it was quiet enough. There are stories about the kinds of things that live in this mountain. Demons. Ghosts. Monsters.

She doesn’t really believe in those sort of things anymore, but there are other things to be careful of. Like bears. And people.

It’s dark, but she can see a cave leading off somewhere. There is no other way out, and her sister isn’t here. She thinks maybe there are some footprints in the soft earth. If her sister is alive--she must be alive, she must be--she went off into the cave. She would have been thinking that she needed to hide. Smart kid.

She goes deeper in, careful, quiet. The cave is narrow and pitch dark for awhile, but there is light up ahead, soft and dim. She creeps along until she reaches the cavern. There’s a floor here--not like ground, but almost like a road, paved with purple stone. There are even structures, very old and crumbling. It’s like the old ruins she saw on TV one time. Someone lived here once.

She hears skittering in the distance and thinks that maybe they still do. She will have to be quiet. Her sister was always so much better at being quiet. Her job was always to be the loud one, making a scene so her sister could slip away unnoticed. She’s learned to fight for that reason. She’s good at it. The other kids in the neighborhood always knew to leave her and her sister alone.

Adults are the ones who never really learn.

She creeps forward through twisting, ruined purple hallways, stopping and pressing against walls whenever she hears footsteps or voices. They are few and far between, but there are people here. More frequent are the locks and traps. Some doors are already open; others are locked and only opened with switches. There are spikes on the ground in places, and there are switches and buttons that lower them. There are other dangers, bits of floor that have cracked or given away entirely. It’s strange. Like some kind of puzzle.

She’s in the fourth room when she sees something move up ahead. She thinks it’s a person at first. But as it comes into view, she realizes: it’s not a person. It’s a monster, shaped kind of like a frog.

So the stories were true.

Her sister is smart. She would have managed to sneak past these monsters. She wouldn’t have gotten caught and eaten.

She wouldn’t have.

She’s struggling to push a stone onto a pressure plate when she hears noises from behind. The monsters have found her. Two of them, round with solitary giant eyes, little horns at the tops of their heads. She thinks about the story about the Cyclops. She won’t need a sling, though. These one is even shorter than her, and she is good with her fists. She curls them to hear the fabric of her gloves crackle.

Whatever they are, they act like bullies when they approaches, wearing smug smiles. She hits the first one in the eye. It’s easy. The monster doesn’t even try to move out of the way. It reels back, surprised and injured and scared. The fear is good. It’s usually enough. If it runs, she won’t need to hit it again. She glares at the other one, daring it to try her.

A voice calls out from behind and she sees a tiny ball of flame float over her shoulder and then land between the two monsters with a pop and a bright flash. The two of them turn and run, yelling. She looks back to see what new threat is approaching.

The monster is large. Much taller than the ones just now. There’s fire in her hands.

“Terrible creatures, bullying an innocent.” Its voice is feminine. She sounds like a schoolteacher, voice careful and clear.

The monster watches as she backs away with her fists raised. The monster crouches down a little, putting herself at eye level.

“Do not worry, my child. I mean you no harm. And I will not let any of the others harm you.”

She sounds like an adult. Which means that this is a trick. It is always a trick with adults. They always say that they don’t want to hurt you. And then they do it anyway, and say it’s for your own good.

“Don’t come near me.”

“If you do not wish it, then I won’t.” Surprisingly, she doesn’t move forward. “But perhaps I can help you. You have fallen down here, haven’t you?”

She lowers her fists a little. There’s enough space between them now that she can run if she needs to. Even if this monster can make fire.

“I’m looking for my sister.”

“Oh, I see. Another human child came through here a few months ago.”

The lady describes a kid who sounds exactly like her sister. Right down to the ribbons.

Her sister was here. She’s alive. She has to be.

“Where is she? If you ate her, I’ll kill you.”

“Monsters do not eat humans!” The lady sounds shocked. She does not believe her. “I would never harm a child, but there are other monsters who might. Your sister left these Ruins to try and find her way home.”

A human would have called the police if a little kid was wandering around on her own. Monsters must do things differently.

“If you follow me, I can show you the way out.”

She follows at a distance. The lady leads her through winding paths and caves, past more of those strange traps and obstacles. She thinks about her sister. If she left months ago, why hasn’t she come back home? Maybe she got lost in all these caves. She’s very good at hiding. She must just be hiding somewhere.

She must be.

The lady takes her to a cozy-looking home, the kind of home you only see on TV. She hesitates by the tree out front while the lady goes to the door. She knows not to go into strange houses with strange people. The lady must think she’s stupid.

“I’m not going in there. Just tell me where the path is.”

“The path leads out through the basement.”

The lady must think she is  _ completely _ stupid.

“I know it sounds silly. But it is the only exit. I understand if you are afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“I can see that.” The lady thinks for a minute. “How about this? I must return to that flower bed you saw earlier to water the flowers. I will leave my door unlocked while I am gone. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge, and you can follow the path yourself. I will be much too far away to do anything to try and catch or harm you. Does that sound fair?”

She paid close attention while they walked here. There were no other paths or cracks, nothing the lady could use to double back while she is gone. She will be able to see the lady leave, and she will be able to see the lady if she tries to come back. The things in the lady’s fridge might all be poisoned--but that seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through to kill one grubby kid. She wouldn’t have had time to poison everything, either.

It’s fair enough. As fair as an adult can be.

“Okay.”

The lady smiles. There’s something sad about it.

“I understand. I will go, then. But please, my child. Be very careful out there. Stay away from King Asgore. I dearly hope that you are able to find your sister and that no harm comes to either of you. Be safe, will you?”

It’s strange. It’s too strange that this lady seems to truly care. She doesn’t answer.

The lady heads back the way she came. She stays near the tree and watches the lady go, until she is well out of sight. Then she hides behind the tree and watches for awhile to see if the lady is going to sneak back.

The lady is gone. So she goes up to the front door, careful of traps.

The inside of the house is just as cozy as the outside. It’s warm and smells like a bakery. She explores cautiously, watching the walls and ceiling in case a monster or a spike trap comes down. Who knows what monsters do in their own houses? But everything looks…normal. There are house plants, a wall mirror, furniture. The carpet has been vacuumed. There’s a staircase in the middle of the house, leading down.

She decides to explore further. The lady might be gone, but there might be other monsters in here, ready to pounce as soon as she tries to go downstairs. She’ll be cornered down there. She’ll have to make sure the house is empty first.

The living room looks normal. The kitchen looks normal. There’s freshly-baked bread on the counter; she tears off a heel and sniffs it before taking a bite. It’s normal bread, and it’s delicious. She takes half the loaf and crams it into her pockets.

There are three bedrooms. No bathrooms. One bedroom is locked. She calls her sister’s name, just in case the lady has kidnapped her and locked her away. No answer. The house is quiet.

One bedroom is for adults. A large bed, a dresser, a desk. Normal. Another bedroom is clearly for a child. There’s macaroni art and drawings on the wall. A small bed. A box of shoes and toys. There’s dust all over, like this room hasn’t been touched in ages. The lady has kids of her own, but they aren’t here anymore. They’ve probably grown up.

There’s no one else here. Everything looks so normal. It should be unsettling, but somehow, it puts her at ease. She checks the window to make sure that the lady isn’t coming back. Then she tries the stairs, still careful of traps.

There isn’t really a basement--just a very long cave. She checks over her shoulder every few moments as she walks. No footsteps, nothing. The lady really was telling the truth.

She thinks maybe she should have been a little nicer, but it’s too late now.

There’s a door at the end of the cave. Her sister is somewhere on the other side. She walks through and closes the door behind her.

  
  
  


There are far more monsters out here, but the forest makes it much easier to hide. It’s cold, but she’s dressed for the weather. It’s surprising to see a winter forest underground.

The forest is full of more of those strange traps. She bypasses them easily. Ahead, she can see the lights of some kind of town. She’s used to forests and wilderness, but her sister isn’t. Her sister would have headed for the town. It will also be much easier to find shelter and to steal food there.

But as she approaches, she sees that it’s a smaller town that she thought at first. She’s never been in a small town, but they must be harder to hide in. Her sister is very good at hiding, but is she good enough to have survived here all this time?

This is her fault. She knows it is. She’d told her sister to run off into the woods, even though her sister had only been into the woods once before. She’d meant to follow right away. But she’d been stupid. She’d gotten caught. She’d had to fight. By the time she got away, her sister was long gone.

She’d looked for ages. But not hard enough. She should have tried harder.

She sneaks through the streets, avoiding monsters, and thinks about all the things she should have done differently. She looks in places that her sister would think to hide--in alleys and near dumpsters, where it would be easy to get food. There’s no storm drains to crawl into. There’s no abandoned buildings. There’s no construction sites. There’s no large stores, no malls, no places with lots of aisles and corners where a kid could easily hide. No laundromat. Not even a homeless shelter. There’s only monsters and more monsters. The town is so very small.

There is no sign of her sister.

It’s her own fault. It makes her angry. She kicks a trashcan in frustration. Some kind of small monster is passing by and looks into the alley right then.

“Hello?” it says.

She runs.

It doesn’t happen right away. She’s careful after that, but she must not be careful enough. Soon she hears more monsters moving through the town. They wear metal that clanks when they walk. She hears them talking about a human. They are searching for her. She hides. She’s good at hiding.

But she was never as good at it as her sister. Her sister always knew to stay hidden and to not come out until she was certain it was safe. She’s not like that. She’s the loud one. The brave one. The one that the adults keep saying is a troublemaker.

She hears two monsters talking when they walk past her hiding place.

“Can you believe it? Two humans in one year?”

“Right? That’s a second soul practically in our grasp. Maybe things are finally turning around for us.”

“Ha! Don’t jinx it.”

A second human. A second soul. She feels something sink in her stomach. They know about her sister. That means they found her.

She steps out into the open, behind the two monsters.

“Where is she? Where is my sister?”

They’re surprised. She has time to hit one of them and knock the sword out of its grasp. She shoves it against a wall, then rounds on the other monster. It’s fumbling with an axe that’s glowing white. She grabs its wrists and yanks it forward. It falls past her to the ground.

“Human, human!” The other monster starts screaming. She kicks their weapons away. “Help, the human is here!”

“Tell me where my sister is or I’ll kill you!”

The second one is trying to scoot away from her on the ground. The first one has recovered and is trying to rush her. She sidesteps and swings a fist, hitting it in the side of the head. She kicks it in the stomach while it’s disoriented and it falls to the ground with a cry.

She can hear other guards coming. That’s fine. She’ll fight all of them if she has to. She advances on the other monster. Something flashes in the air in front of it, and dozens of little white shapes rocket toward her. They look like snowflakes. She tries to wave them away, but the snowflakes are sharp and burning. She lets out a startled cry as they slice into her hand and arm. The cuts aren’t deep, but for some reason, the pain is--it’s like a punch to the gut that knocks your wind out.

Is this what happened to her sister?

“Tell me where she is! What did you do to her?!”

“I don’t know!”

The monster is trying to get up, so she rushes forward and kicks it right in the head. She reaches down and grabs it by the neck. The other monster behind her is struggling to rise.

She bares her teeth and raises her fist.

“My sister! She’s a little girl and she came here before! Where is she?”

The monster stares up at her, terrified.

“The, the king has her soul…I didn’t see it happen…please, let me go!”

She feels something break inside her. Her face feels hot. Her eyes feel hot.

“You killed her.” Saying it out loud makes it real. “You killed her, you ate her.”

“I wasn’t--!”

She lifts the monsters head and smashes it into the ground.

Something strange happens. The monster turns into dust in her hands. She hopes that means it’s dead. She stands back up. The other monster is staring in horror. A dozen other monsters have appeared as well, weapons drawn. She’s surrounded.

She doesn’t feel the tears streaming down her face.

She raises her fists.


End file.
